


Lionsbane

by BluEnby



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Archive warnings will be added as I write more because I’m planning this as I go, F/F, F/M, I’m not sure what the difference between mature and explicit is but we’re gonna find out, M/M, Multi, Outlander Modern Girl in Theadas AU, Time Travel, main character knows a lot about literature and theatre, modern theadas, no editing we die like men, period typical racism towards elves, period typical treatment of mages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 19:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluEnby/pseuds/BluEnby
Summary: Be: Amser Hawke; a student at the University of Highever. On an expedition to find the lost town of Haven, she gets sent back in time to the era of the Inquisition. With only the desire to go home, Amser has to decide if she wants to try and change anything while she is stuck in the past where she was never supposed to be.





	1. The Jaws of Stone

The wind was biting cold – no matter how much Amser bundled up.

  
“Here we are,” The Professor said, a sweeping arm displaying the vast valley hidden between a nest of tall mountains, “What is meant to be Haven. Buried under thousands of years of ice and snow.”

  
The crew of scientists bustled around the two elves; using a bit of magic and muscle to set up the equipment and tents. It was a fascinating sight for Amser to see – never in her wildest dreams did she think she would be going on an actual dig. Her roommates had teased her about going on a ‘school’ trip during the break. Amser had ignored them in favor of getting a taste of discovery.

  
“Could you imagine Professor?” Amser asked wistfully, “If Haven is actually here? That means we could be close to finding Skyhold!”

  
The Professor laughed “Wonderful thinking, but we should stay focused on finding Haven before finding a lost fortress.” The Professor lead Amser to a freshly set up tent, “You’ll be bunking with the Newbies. Mainly mages from the University of Magical Arts. They are all on their work term – somewhat like you. I’ll let you get set up and acquainted. I’ve got to talk to Director Faust.”

  
“Wait! Professor, when will I – ” Amser started before noticing the Professor had darted off out of proximity. Standing in front of the tent flap, Amser pushed in, bags in tow.

  
The interior was much warmer then the outside thanks to the hearth within. A quick glace showed the room did contain at least two of the other people; ‘the Mages’ she remembered. The tent had a total of five beds, so two mages were missing. The two within did look close to Amser in age – if not a little older. One was an elf, Amser noted. He was taller then her (which wasn’t a surprise. Only dwarfs were shorter then her consistently) and his hair was long and brown tied up in an intricate elvhen traditional style. He was focused on unpacking some books from a trunk near what Amser assumed was his bunk.

  
The other in the tent noticed her as soon as Amser walked inside. The human woman looked up from her book and gave Amser a wide smile before running over to greet her. The human woman seemed extremely bubbly – which put off Amser almost immediately.  
“You must be the student from the University of Highever! I’m Jess. I specialize in elemental magic. I’m mainly here to help get my science credits so I can –”

  
“Jess. She doesn’t care about your elemental nonsense. Let her pick a bunk before you jump down her throat.” The elven man spoke. His voice was deep and stern – Amser shivered slightly, and then decided it was definitely the cold.

  
Jess huffed and spun around to face the elven man, her blonde curls smacking Amser slightly by mistake, “I’m just trying to be friendly Mirwen. She’ll be the odd one out once Lailani and Bren arrive.”

  
“Uh… Thanks? I guess.” Amser said as she moved past Jess to a bunk as close to the heat as possible, “But I’m here to work on my degree – I’d rather not make friends like this is some summer camp.”

  
Amser did note a short snort of laughter from Mirwen.

  
Jess adjusted her robes before going back over to her bunk, picking up her book. “Well, I guess I’ll go back to my literature.”

  
Amser glanced over to see the cover of the book and let out a smile at the cover of Swords and Sheilds, “I honestly don’t mean to be rude Jess. I am working on two degrees right now; being here doesn’t excuse me from writing up a ten-page term paper comparing the works of Shakespeare that I have to hand in first class after the break.”

  
“Maker’s Ballsack that’s a lot of writing.” Jess remarked, slapping her book into her lap, “You don’t even have a laptop with you. How are you going to write that in the idle of nowhere?”

  
Amser held up a journal and a pen, “I plan on going old-school. We’re quite far from any power source and you mages are needed to help excavate the site.”

  
Mirwen rolled his eyes as Jess and Amser giggled. It was going to be a long expedition.

  
A little later, Lailani and Bren arrived. Lailani, another elf girl (who looked similar to Mirwen), mainly kept her long hair in an easy braid that she kept over her shoulder. Bren was a Vashoth – tall and varying shades of grey. He had the ‘largest’ bunk, but his legs still hung off the end slightly.

  
The four mages got along surprisingly well compared to how Mirwen and Jess got along when Amser first arrived. Amser herself kept out of their way and up to her neck in schoolwork. The Professor stopped by once or twice, but Amser’s work was focused on finding a general location first before she would start digging. She was curled up on a chair at one of the desks working on her term paper – the others had gone off to get dinner, but Amser decided to skip it in favor of finishing the essay. Biting her pencil, she began to think about how she did get to this freezing place.

_“It was around this time when the Tevinter Empire first begin to enslave the Elves. We don’t currently have many ruins or artifacts from this time, but we have found a few stone tablets that are the receipts of certain trades between many prominent Magisters of the time.” The elderly elven Professor clicked a button, and the slide changed to show photographs of tablets with symbols carved within them. “We know this was when the first mass enslavement of Elves began as these particular tablets speak of a ‘new commodity’ with a clear description of the Elvhen people.”_

  
_The Professor’s voice was surrounded by the scribbling of pencil on paper, as many of the students within the class took notes. Some looked disinterested in the material, slouching in their seats – vaguely paying attention. A few sat in the back, laptops open – clearly not paying attention at all. Near the front of the room, in a group of students who were paying attention, sat a young redheaded elven woman. She looked like a strong wind could blow her over; her eyes – though focused on the lecture – would drift before a flurry of writing took place as if she was trying to catch up. The dark room seemed to hide the fact that she was so pale – but not the frizzy mess that was her chin length hair._

  
_“Due to the many long ages of enslavement, the Elvhen people lost most of their history and language. The magic of the Elven Empire has been lost – although many Clans hold a fair amount of knowledge that was gathered for centuries. Scholars on Elvhan studies, such as myself, also strive to help bring the knowledge of what was. It is a constant uphill battle to understand the old culture – since many who enslaved the elves destroyed texts and tried to make the slaves conform to the new culture they were thrust into._

  
_“The most well-known story about Elvhen Culture is the work Trespasser by Ser Verric Tethras after the events of the Second Inquisition – which was indeed led by a Dalish Elf if all accounts are to be believed. Mr. Tethras has been known to craft stories more so then tell the truth with most of his written works so his word has often been taken with a bit of salt._

  
_“I know some of you are doing an English Major and will most likely run into some of his stories in the future – and will have more luck in that field for his works.”_ _The Professor moved to click onto the next slide before their phone alarm went off, “Ah. It appears our time is up for today. Remember, you all have an essay due about artifact from the past; It is due before the midterm. Remember, I have to approve your topic first before you write your essay – that means no last-minute submissions.”_

  
_Various groans of confirmations bounced around the room as many of the students began to file out of the lecture hall. The frizzy redhead elf weaved her way through her fellow students, clinging her books to her chest, toward the Professor._

  
_“Hello Amser” The Professor smiled warmly at the young woman._

  
_“Hi Professor.” They young elf tried to tame a bit of her hair out of her face before continuing, “I was looking into an artifact – well, artifacts? Well. A location.”_

  
_“I can’t deny what you haven’t yet told me about Amser.” The Professor stopped packing away their books and indicated towards the chairs near the desk at the front of the room. “Tell me what you have in mind.”_

  
_“Well- ” Amser followed suit to sit at the desk, pulling out the well worn copy of The Inquisition by Varric Tethras, “My family history has been important to us for many generations. Before I knew anything about it, I had fallen in love with The Tale of the Champion because the main character had the same surname as me. But when I got older my father, ever the historian, was able to track our family line back all the way to the Hawke family like the ones in Varric Tethras’ book.” Amser began flipping through The Inquisition to the drawing of a circle of stones, “In the book, he said that the stones were of elven descent, but before the research could be finalized, Haven was attacked and then buried under snow.”_

  
_A pause followed. Amser looked up from the book to the eyes of her Professor._

  
_“Amser, as you know, many scholars both in literature and archeology find Tethras’ stories to be works of fiction and to not hold any truth. To many fantastical things within the stories counteract the history of what we know.”_

  
_Amser brought out a few printed-out pages, and when the Professor looked at them, they were written in elvish. “These documents from the Dalish Keeper of Clan Alerion in 8:13 Blessed mention stones of the same formation as Elvhan artifacts from a time of Arlathan. I think Haven, if the ruins of the settlement are ever found, would have the stones somewhere nearby, under the snow.”_

  
_The Professor looked at Amser for a moment before bursting into a bright smile. “As it so happens, during the break next week I am traveling to what people believe is the location of what was once Haven. If you would like to come along and continue your research in field?”_

  
_“Really? I could come along on an actual dig!” Amser fumbled her books in surprise, almost dropping them to the ground._

  
_“Yes Ms. Hawke. It is later on in your Major for Archeology; and from what I hear, you are already well on your way to gaining your Major in English two years before what is the usual.”_

  
_“Professor I would be honored to come along.”_

  
Shivering, she wrapped her heavy blanket around herself tighter. No student credit was worth spending time in this freezing cold. She was an elf popsicle despite wearing several different layers of clothing to keep her warm. Glad that being here was not just for credits but also came with the potential to be one of the few to discover a elvhen artifact that hadn’t been discovered before now. The only thing sidetracking her was the term-paper.

  
She was halfway through the _Coriolanus_ section of the paper when the strong wind whipped into the tent, almost knocking her out of her chair. The candles and hearth went out – plunging Amser into darkness. Not being a mage herself, and lacking the ability to start the hearth again, she put her term papers and pencil in her bag. Picking up her bag Amser made her way out of the tent to try and find, at the very least, another fire; or maybe one of her tentmates who would restart the hearth.

  
Stepping outside, a breeze blew from the opposite direction of the dig site; with it – unintelligible whispers.

  
Amser shook her head and looked toward the lights closer to the dig site. Impossible to hear voices on the wind. She had no magic – spirits shouldn’t be able to freely try and speak with her at will. The only way that would be the case is if it was truly Haven; Having so much tragedy as well as what was know as The Breach above it could open up the veil more so that spirits and demons might be able to talk to non-magic folk…

  
The idea left a shiver on Amser’s spine as she stepped toward the fires. The wind blows stronger, the whispers more instant. She paused and turned toward where the wind blows. If it is a creature of the Fade, the worst that could happen is that it either offers her a deal or not. There haven’t been any cases of possession in over 2 centuries. If it was a spirit, it could tell her what exactly these ruins are. Taking a moment to debate if she should just go find someone to light her hearth again, she sighs and begins walking toward the wind.  
“This is probably the stupidest idea you have ever had Amser,” She muttered to herself as she followed the whispering wind, “Hawke’s and their stupid impulses for adventure and knowledge.”

  
The snow crunched underneath her feet with each step, swallowing her feet up to her ankle. Wherever she was going, she knew she was heading the right direction; the whispers kept getting louder the closer she got. With each step the whispers seemed to become clearer. It was elvish, but not as Amser knew it. It felt off. Much like how the Common from Later Ages felt to the modern Common. As confusing as that was because spirits or demons tend to speak the language you knew so they could at least talk to the mortals they tried to draw into their web. So, what was with the old vernacular?

  
In the dark, Amser could make out these shapes of rounded stones in a circle. At first thought, it could have been the Elvhen stones, but these stones looked less like the image originally sketched so long ago. These stones looked like teeth protruding out of the ground mid bite. That seemed to be where the whispers were coming from. And, against her better judgement, she stepped inside the circle.

  
At once, all noise seemed to disappear.

  
It was like entering a zone of silence. There was not a chirp of any animals – and the whispers ceased. The only thing that Amser could feel was a thrumming vibration that was felt right to her bones. It was curious. ‘Probably ancient magic, trying to draw people to these stones,’ She thought with a bit of worry.

  
Though, despite her worry, she looked around the stones fascinated. The runes inscribed were a mix of different eras of Middling Magic and pre-Tevinter enslavement elvish. Amser brushed her hand against the other circle stone to trace the written words still visible over time before the thrumming became a world tilting shake. A high-pitched noise seemed to grow louder and louder as the whispers from before became chanting. Amser felt herself falling off balance towards three stones in a circle in the center. These stones seem to have a bit of a blueish glow; before Amser could stop herself, she was falling into them.

  
The next thing she knew, she was falling into a larger drift of snow then she had been walking in before. Rolling onto her back and looking up, she noticed that what had once been night was now almost mid-day. Amser jolted into a sitting position.

  
“Shit! The Professor must be worried about me!” Despite whatever just happened, getting back to the dig site was the most important thing that Amser needed to do. Standing up felt like she was a newborn Halla. Legs wobbly and unsure, she sprinted in an awkward attempt at running to get back to the site.

  
She didn’t notice, however, that the trees were denser then they had been before; thick enough that if Amser had actually looked up, she wouldn’t have seen the sky. She realized her mistake when she burst through the treeline and was greeted with the sight of a town that hadn’t been there before – and a giant green hole in the sky.

  
“Shit.”


	2. The Stones of the Dwarf

The clangs of steel on steel could be heard vaguely in the air. Wrapping the blanket around herself tighter, Amser slowly started to back away from the valley into the trees. Luckily the snow was still fresh with no foot traffic; so, finding her own footprints back would be relatively easy. Leaving before anyone saw her would be the best – knowing the Lady Nightingale from the novels, questioning why Amser was there would cause major havoc.

The snow was deep and her footprints were prominent in the blanket of white. In the panic to get back to the camp, Amser did not realize how deep the snow was. It was almost fully up to her knees – never one for exercise the high steps Amser had to do to get through the snow was starting to wear down her stamina. Despite the exercise and fatigue, the scenery was actually quite beautiful; She was surprised that she hadn’t noticed it before. It was so different compared to what it was in her current time. The trees were bigger – thicker in the way around and taller than she had seen before. Amser had always been a city girl more interested in learning about things then actually going outside; which thinking about it now, seemed to be detrimental to her current situation. Nature was never this lush whenever she was forced to go on the Hawke family camping trip – though when the family went on the trip it was only a little outside the city.

Her wonderment on the journey back was interrupted but a sizzling noise. It took Amser a few seconds to try and figure out where the noise was coming from – then her eyes widened in fear as the sizzling erupted with a pop as a bright green rip in the air appeared above her to the left. ‘ _Of fucking course-_ ‘ Amser started to think as she saw faint green lines start to pour out of the tear in the fade.

She turned to run – but the thick snow was making it harder. The panic was clear on her face as she made it almost to the edge of the glowing green lines; a shift in the air however, one that felt the world was almost on its side, signaled the demons arrival. A large Terror appeared right next to Amser and as she tried to flee, its large claws reached out on spindly arms and tore through the blanket. She let go of the tatters and kept trying to escape before falling into the drift of snow – her back felt like someone had taken her skin and had put it through a shredder.

The snow was cold and her back felt burning hot, but she tried to stay conscious. Knowing if she stayed where she was in the snow, under the rift surrounded by demons, death would be inevitable – she crawled. With what little upper body strength she had, Amser pulled herself through the snow, feeling her back burn as she tried to move. After maybe moving a few inches, Amser felt a clawed hand wrap around her ankles and pull. She tried to grip on to something,  _anything,_ to try and stop this horrific nightmare she had stepped into. Her throat let out a scream of fear and frustration and all she could grab was fistfuls of snow. As she was dragged backwards Amser noticed the blood trailing out into the snow in front of her.

‘ _This is how I’m going to die. In the past away from anyone I love – torn apart by a demon. God Damn Hawke’s and their curiosity._ ’ Amser thought, helplessly still trying to grip at anything in the snow, but she was unable to find any purchase.

She felt her body be lifted up; she was dangling upside-down in the air, her bag falling and smacking her in the face as it didn’t fully fall off as it caught on her underarm. The Terror brought Amser up, face to face. Its maw seemed to open wider as it let out a mutilated roar. Amser closed her eyes tight – not wanting to see her ultimate doom – and prayed to the Maker. It was the one thing she hadn’t done since she was a small girl with her grandparents - when they had been alive. If anything, she prayed that her death would be quick; if Amser could not live after this moment, she did not want to die in agony.

That was when she heard a new voice, a battle cry, and she was dropped back into the snow. Her vision blurred and the world seemed to spin and she tried to look around. Shapes of warriors that Amser had only seen in old drawings and archaeological finds. A shape ran over to her – she couldn’t see anything; they were blonde, she could tell that. Probably male by the sound of their voice. It was just sound however, when they tried to speak with her. They seemed to repeat the same thing as the first time before darkness came over her vision and she couldn’t perceive anything after that.

The next thing she knew, all Amser felt was a numbness all over and the scratchiest blanket she had ever used. She was laid on her stomach – which was weird, since she usually slept on her side. She was cold; the hearth must have gone out in the night.

“Jess turn the heat back on it’s freezing.”

When no reply from the talkative mage, and a distant din of metal on metal jolted everything to click in her brain. Amser opened her eyes and started to franticly look around. She was in a tent, but that was where the similarities ended. Across from her was an empty cot, dried blood on the fabric and on the floor. The tent flaps were closed but they looked vastly different from the tents she was used to. She saw a woman in chantry garb that, in her time, hadn’t been seen in centuries. She tried to push herself up in order to get a look around the room but a jolt of searing pain filled her brain; Amser felt nothing but the pain coming from her back. A cry of agony left her lips as she felt any resistance in her arms give way as she fell back down onto the cot. A flurry of movement was heard before Amser felt herself being surrounded by different women – all of them were wearing the same chantry garb she saw before. They were at work on her back almost instantly – speaking in a strange dialect that Amser could barely place. It sounded familiar but, in her pain, she could not place it exactly. Some of the women around Amser tried to speak with her. Amser closed her eyes and tried to push them away. Everyone was too close, her back felt like it was on fire, and there was so much noise. Amser felt a cloth being pressed to her face – her eyes shot open and looked at one of the Chantry sisters who held the fabric. Within seconds, Amser felt her eyes becoming heavy; Darkness came soon after.

The next time Amser awoke she felt like she had been dunked in a pit of concrete. Amser felt sluggish and had a mouth so dry it felt like she had been eating sand. She took her time to categories her surroundings – a man whose chest was wrapped in bandages was laying in the cot next to her. He was reading what looked like one of the rare first editions that Amser saw a lot of in the university’s library; It looked almost fresh off the press however, nothing like the well-preserved texts that Amser had to handle with special gloves. She heard talking in the distance. She closed her eyes and tried focusing on the words being said. It took a moment before she realized what it was. It was _Middling_ Common.

‘ _Thank the Maker linguistics was mandatory for my PhD_.’ Amser thought.

The talking took a moment to translate; Amser never really learned to speak Middling Common. The classes mainly focused on translating the written word.

“It is a miracle from The Maker that she was able to survive. We have someone watching over her to make sure she does not succumb to her wounds.” This voice seemed to belong to an elderly woman. The voice had a sort of elderly crackle behind the words.

“I would like to see how she fairs, Mother. Not many common folk can encounter a rift as close as she and live to tell the tale.” This voice was male, deep and calming.

‘ _Oh good. They’re talking about me._ ’ Amser let out a huff at the thought.

“I am here to help the injured with my magic while The Herald has no need for my assistance. I might be able to hasten her healing.” The male said.

It didn’t take long before the pair were at the cot Amser was currently in. Not wanting to use her out of practice translation skills Amser pretended to be asleep. Neither the mage or the chantry mother seemed to notice or care if she was awake or not. Amser heard a hum in the air and just as quickly felt like she was dunked in ice water. She let out a cry of surprise and clenched at the bottom of the cot’s frame.

“Try to stay calm da’len. You are severely injured. I am trying to heal your wounds.” The mage had a calm voice. He was probably Elven, judging by his term of endearment.

She didn’t try to move, keeping her grip on the supports of the cot. Amser had never felt magic healing before. She had been lucky – most of her life she had never had any broken bones or serious injuries that would send someone to the emergency healers. She had gone like everyone else for a checkup, but never had the need for one of the spirit healers. Her skin felt itchy as it started to knit itself back together. The only thing Amser could think about was scratching all over her back where she could reach. Out of politeness she just gripped the cot harder; any social awkwardness could cause someone to remember her.

‘ _Remember…. Shit!_ ’ Amser’s brain began to work in overtime. Anybody here could be effected by her knowledge of the future. This was the centre of the Inquisition if her memory of the events before she woke up here served her correct. Amser needed to get back to those stones before the Inquisitor could close the Breach. Once the Breach is closed those weird stones would disappear – probably until Amser had found them again back in her own time. Which was about 5 centuries from where she found herself now in the Dragon Age.

Healing would be her top priority. Then she would need to make sure her bag had everything in it. If any time travel story she consumed told her anything, leaving something from the future in the past could had disastrous consequences. Amser would also have to be careful of the Spymaster Nightingale. The book had told of how terrifying the woman was if anything appeared as a threat; Amser would have to be extra careful about what she did and how she tried to get back to the stones. Guards would be in watch and the Scouts who saw her would definitely report back what they saw to the Spymaster.

‘ _Fuck_.’

“I have done what I can. I would recommend a fortnight of rest for what is left to heal properly.” The Mage man’s voice was kind though he seemed to hold something back.

“Maker thank you Ser Solas. We feared she would be unable to get any assistance and would pass in the next few days.” The Chantry Mother spoke with seemingly no caution for the Elvhenan girl who was could hear her.

Amser tried not to think about how close to death she had been.

“Da’len your back will not heal as it were new. The wounds were too deep and will leave scars. But you will be out of the healers tent and back on your feet within the fortnight.” The mage, Solas, seemed to speak more kindly then the chantry mother.

There was a pause as both Solas and the chantry mother awaited and response from Amser. Not knowing the proper words to speak just yet, she buried her head into the straw filled pillow with a groan. She did hear a huff of annoyance from the chantry mother before two sets of footsteps walked away.

‘ _Solas. That sounds familiar. It can’t possible be the Solas from the book. It can’t be. Trespasser can’t have happened. That man cannot be The Dread Wolf. Can he?_ ’ Amser brought her hands up to rub her eyes. This was starting to get too much. If this Solas was actually The Dread Wolf and Trespasser’s events are real - everything just got a lot more complicated. Amser needed to get to the stones as soon as possible.

“You don’t talk much do ya?” The man next to Amser spoke up after the Mother and mage were gone. Amser turned her head to look at him. She had not been paying much attention to him before – taking a closer look, she saw his hair was shorn and he had a face filled with stubble; An old scar ran down his face and he was very muscular. And if Amser wasn’t mistaken, his voice sounded distinctly Starkhaven, “Look little miss. I don’t care if you can speak or if ya cant. Readin’s getting boring so I’ll be talking with ya to pass the time.” He waved around the book haphazard, considering the injuries of both parties. Amser looked at the book with some worry and the man flailed it around.

The man seemed to notice her eyes trailing after the book. “Here little miss. You can have the damn thing. I got it off of one of the recruits in a game of Wicked Grace. Thought it would be good but it’s boring drivel. Who names a book Swords AND Shields if it isn’t about fighting?” He tossed the book across the small gap between them. Amser barely caught it and almost fell off her cot.

With something to read and the seemingly endless stories from her cot neighbor, who she learned was called Thaddeus, the first week went by in almost the blink of an eye. Thaddeus was getting discharged and was said to be in fighting duty again. He winked at Amser as he left and said she could keep the book.

She seemed to be alone most of the time now.

A chantry sister would stop by on occasion to check on her and help her to the chamber pot – which Amser hated with a passion. She would kill someone for indoor plumbing.

Amser tried to focus on a plan to go back out into the woods to get to the stones. Sneaking out at night seemed like the best option. Amser would need supplies for that plan – something that lit her way as the woods would no doubt be pitch black. She could try and bypass some of the guards saying she was out looking for herbs – but the cold weather might not have anything growing and they might not believe her. There could be some spots that someone could sneak out of but those were no doubt guarded by scouts of the Nightingale.

Amser spent the whole week thinking of a way to get out of where she assumed was Haven. She didn’t see much of the inside of the town and the brief glimpse she had of the outside made it seem more imposing then in Varric Tethras’ books. Surveying the area seemed like the best bet; Amser could get a look around the town and see where she could sneak out from.

But all these didn’t really factor in what they would do with her once she was out of the infirmary. From her history courses Amser had learned what it would be like for Elvhenan women of this time period. Barely considered a part of the working class – if any elf was considered like a person at all. The Inquisition did have a good reputation in the books Amser studied but that could be nothing but works of fiction.

At least she wasn’t a Mage.

The second week of her recovery crawled by as Amser tried to think of any sort of plan to get back to her own time. Each new idea all came back to trying to figure out what Haven actually looked like. The chatter around her from the chantry sisters and occasional patient did help refresh her memory on Middling Common; she would be able to speak it if needed, but at this point most people around her had assumed her mute. No doubt it had spread around the village by now with all the gossip the chantry sisters tittered about during their shifts in the healing tent.

On the final day, Amser was sent out of the infirmity with a single set of clothes (the ones she had on when she was found had been torn to shreds), a pair of used boots, and her satchel. She was surprised to receive her bag intact; Spymaster Nightingale hadn’t appeared to have look through it. That boded well for future outcomes. If the Nightingale didn’t see her as a threat, Amser could make her way out of the town and towards the stones with no hassle from guards or scouts; the scars on her back as the only memory of being stuck in this time. The clothes weren’t exactly warm but the boots were sturdy and kept the snow out. No one seemed to glance at her as she was all but tossed out of the tent flaps.

The people around her were bustling in the paths that led through the town – and not one gave her a hint of a look. Amser strapped her bag over her shoulder and took a look around.

The buildings filled the small town in a weird clutter. If a space held no buildings the empty space was filled with tents. From where she was standing, she could see the large lumber walls that surrounded Haven. A few guards were dotted along the wooden barrier; from where Amser was, she couldn’t quite see the main gates but assumed that there would be a larger guard presence there.

Trying to keep out of the way of the bigger crowd, Amser weaved her way through towards the gates. If she could get a good look at the foot traffic coming in and out of Haven, she could get a good idea of how to get out of the village and into the woods. It took only a moment before Amser could see the gates. It looked like people were going in and out freely – All carrying supplies in or out of the village. Out of the corner of her eye Amser saw an empty basket near a few other larger, empty containers. Walking past, she grabbed the basket and made her way towards the gate. If she knew anything about people it was that they tended to ask less questions if you look liked you knew what you were doing. So all she had to do was look like an elf with a task.

Each step closer to the gate brought up a little more anxiety within Amser. She looked at the guards in the distance – a distance that inched closed with each step she took towards the gate; they didn’t seem to be stopping anybody from coming in or out of Haven. She kept herself from making any eye contact with anyone who was anywhere close and kept walking with purpose. A flick of her eyes upward to check her distance from the gate – she was so close to getting outside Haven.

Amser felt her breath weigh down in her chest as she walked through the entrance. No one seemed to stop her as she walked past the guards. As soon as her feet were outside the walls she felt hopeful. This was going better then she had thought it would. She turned off the main path and headed along the one that led to the forest. A few people made their way on the path to the forest, but it was only a scattered few. On this path, she dropped the act of a demure servant and kept her eyes forward. She would need to keep a sharp eye on where she was going if she wanted to avoid running into another rift. The forest met the path slowly at first, and then all at once. Amser kept walking, determined. It wasn’t long before she was shivering. Amser spotted a building a little ways up the path. It didn’t look like people were currently inside; and the walls would help keep some heat in if she could start a fire or see if inside head any warmer clothing. Rubbing her hands together in an attempt to keep warm Amser made the decision to head inside, if only for a moment, to try and regain heat. She wouldn’t get to the stones if she was frozen in the snow.

The door wasn’t locked when Amser tried to open it. The interior wasn’t as warm as a building that had a fire inside but it did offer some protection. Amser was already digging inside some crates to see if she could find any kind of coat before she was slammed with a realization.

‘ _I have no Maker damned clue where the stones are from here_.’

She had been so focused on getting out of Haven that she didn’t realize where the stones were from the village. Amser slumped against the edge of the crate she was currently digging in. The only clue she had when she was looking for them before was the drawing in a book by a deadman who was thought to have made up a good portion of his true stories. How in the hell was Amser going to find –

‘ _Wait. I’m in the past. Varric Tethras is still very much alive. He might know how to get to the stones and I’ll get to go back to my family. He’s a Hawke family icon after all._ ’ Amser thought.

With newfound pep, Amser began digging through some more crates in hopes of finding a coat of any kind. It took a handful of crates before she found one that looked like a storage for old, unusable, fabrics. Any kind of clothing inside would have only been useful as rags in their future; But Amser did find another set of clothing that could go over her current set - as well as a coat that was torn in a few places (well, torn in a good few places that had patchwork that was loosely attached to cover large holes). Layering the clothes over each other, Amser knew, was a good way to keep in heat. Who cares if the coat had different fabrics placed all over with a few gaps? It would help keep her warm; that was one of the most important things at the moment. Cold exposure could kill the toughest of men.

Amser sat down on a closed crate. Her new task was to get close to Varric Tethras. That particular task had been done before by Amser’s ancestors – That small clan of Hawke’s trying to better themselves in a city they had fled to for refuge. Her family name would by far be the easiest way to get to him.

But could she tell him the truth? Could he be as trusted as his stories of loyalty to the Hawke family had Amser believe? He could turn her in as crazy; someone trying to gain his favour with knowing how much Hawke meant to him. He could have her taken in by the Nightingale – and then she would be thrown in the dungeons; tortured and left for dead. But Amser really needed to get to those stones. If she ever wanted to see home ever again she would have to take a risk. But would this particular plan work in her favour? There was only one way to find out.

Amser would have to tell Varric about being a descendent of Hawke.

Asking Varric out in the open would be positively _stupid_. Amser would have to watch his movements - keep an eye on the storyteller. He was a man of many talents and slippery to pin down. Finding him would be the first task.

If he liked telling stories as much as Amser liked dissecting them he would be in some place that would have many people wanting to relax and be entertained. The first place that came to her mind was the Tavern.

The Hanged Man was a staple in _The Tale of the Campion_. Surely he was a creature of habit and would gravitate to similar atmospheres. He was also drawn to Hawke at first because they were of some interest. She would need to muster something that he could look at her for. Leaving the empty basket on an unopened crate Amser began her trek into town. This time, Amser didn’t bother to drop her eyes to avoid eye contact. A servant blends in – she would need to attract attention. Which looking directly forward into the face of anyone she passed, Noble or servant alike, seemed to draw surprised faces (at least from the human nobles used to ‘more respect’ then she would be giving them). It probably had to do with her new very worn outfit mixed with a more brash attitude then most elves around her had that caused them to look at her like she burned Andraste at the stake herself.

Finding the Tavern was easy enough. The chatter could be distantly heard from the entrance of Haven. Following the conversation on the air, Amser was brought to a building with no doors. Either it had been built in a rush and the doors were forgotten, or the doors were removed due to the roughhousing of the patrons. Off duty soldiers and workers scattered about at tables that looked to be roughly put together. And there, at the far wall in a booth looking area with a large table, sat Varric Tethras. He had people surrounding him as he looked to be telling an in depth story; every listener seemed to be enthralled in his tale. Stepping inside, Amser made her way over to bar.

The barkeep was a slip of a human woman, busy gathering everything for other patrons. The end held a tray of steaming soups and a few tankards of drink. Before anyone could spot her Amser grabbed a bowl and a tankard before quickly retreating to a table close to Varric. The whole tavern seemed too preoccupied or too drunk to notice the theft.

Amser hunkered down in her hopefully out of the way spot and guiltily ate her stolen soup. No one seemed to notice her at her table – it was probably one of the worst tables inside the tavern; the window beside it wouldn’t fully close, it was the farthest away from the fireplace, and the table and chairs seemed close to being a safely hazard.

It took what felt like hours before the tavern started to clear out of people. At its busiest Amser couldn’t even see Varric across the way. A few stragglers sat dotted around the tavern – either passed out or close to. Varric, once everyone had left, turned his table into a sort of work station. Once he left, Amser would follow him outside and ask him then. It seemed to be the best bet for finding him alone.

Amser watched him with her head rested in one of her hands. She was exhausted, but knew she couldn’t sleep until she had spoken with Varric. The faster she was able to leave the past, the better. Amser knew the facts about people who go missing and how it can tear their family apart. And if she wasn’t fast enough, maybe the expedition would have moved on leaving her in the middle of nowhere to freeze to death by the time she was able to get through the stones back to her time.

That wasn’t something she wanted to think about.

She rubbed her hands over her face, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. Amser didn’t want to know how much time had passed since she had been here. Magic worked in extremely weird ways; she wasn’t even a mage so understanding how it worked to bring her to the Dragon Age would be useless. And even if she understood how magic worked and how it brought her here she would never be able to use it to take her home.

“You know, for a spy, you are objectively bad at this.”

Amser jumped at the gruff voice speaking from next to her. She gripped the back of her chair and the table in surprise. Varric was now sat next to her. Amser looked frantically between where Varric currently was and where he had been. His journals and papers were nowhere to be seen – he must have packed them away without Amser noticing him doing so. She felt her heart beating into her throat. This isn’t how she planned talking with the dwarf.

“I’m- I’m not a spy.” She found herself saying, barely above a whisper.

“Ah- and she is able to speak. I heard you were a mute from that idle chatter around town; they love to speak about the common woman who survived a demon attack. Being carried into Haven by the Commander of all people was sure to make a stir.” The way he placed himself in the chair seemed casual, but when Amser looked for a way to leave – if she needed to flee and hope for the best – but found she was trapped.

“If you aren’t a spy – tell me; why have you been watching me for most of the night?”


	3. What The Hell Is Even Time Travel

Amser was too shocked to say anything at first. Her eyes were wide with panic and her mouth seemed to open and close like a fish – the only sounds escaping panicked squeaks. She hugged her bag to herself her mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out what to say. Luckily, Varric took in her state of panic as something else.

“You’re a fan aren’t you? I know I’m an amazing writer but you don’t need to get flustered. I’m just a regular person who just happened to be given such a talent with words.” He leaned his elbow on the table and gave Amser a half-hearted wink, “Why don’t I sign a copy of my book for you? I assume you have one – most fans who get this bad in my presence usually have a copy of one on them at all times.”

On autopilot Amser reached into her bag and pulled out the first book she could and handed it over to Varric.

Varric took the book and squinted at the title. “I really need to talk to my publisher. This isn’t any of my works but he’s passing it off like I’ve written it.”

Amser’s stomach dropped and she lunged for the book just as he started to open it. “You can’t read that!”

Varric moved the book out of her reach, “I think I can. If my publisher is passing off stories I haven’t written as my own I will very well read it to see what it is about.”

Amser stood to try and reach over the dwarf to get the book but he kept moving out of the way in time to keep the book just out of her reach. “You can’t - It could change everything!”

“Oh, it will if I have anything to say about it. Like my publisher being out of a job for a start.”

Varric was now keeping her at bay with a well-placed foot; he was leaning away from her grabbing hands holding the book out. He was about to open it but stopped when Amser half shouted a warning.

“You haven’t written it yet!”

Any sort of playfulness dropped right out of his face as he pushed her away from him with the foot that had been keeping Amser from reaching the book. Amser fell back into the chair she had been sitting in before; the chair itself wobbled dangerously. Varric closed the book but still held it in one hand. Amser quickly looked around the Tavern to see if anyone had heard her shout. The whole place was empty – the Tavern Keeper must have left to go home. The lack of doors seemed to prevent the need to lock up shop.

She brought her eyes back to Varric; He seemed acutely aware of the fact that the two of them were now alone and he was the only one of them who was armed.

“You are going to tell me about why you have a book I haven’t written yet in your possession and you are going to tell me _now_.”

Amser watched one of his hands reach up towards the crossbow strapped to his back. She was so _stupid_. Amser hand been all caught up in the image her family had made of Varric Tethras that she had forgotten the major fact that he was one of the people who had help stop The Breach and help kill Corypheus _for good_. He could kill her just as much as he could help her depending on how well he believed her.

Amser wrapped her arms around herself and looked away from Varric. “You probably won’t believe me because even I wouldn’t believe me if it hadn’t happened to me.”

“Try me.” Varric’s voice was stern. Less like that of a parent scolding a child and more like someone ready to defend themselves against a potential threat.

Amser gripped herself tighter, “My name is Amser Hawke and I am from the future. About 5 centuries into the future.” Amser looked at Varric quickly, trying to see how he was taking her information. He seemed shocked but that didn’t change the fact that he was ready to pull out his crossbow. “I was on a dig to find out if the location of Haven had been found but I was looking for a set of stones what had been drawn in one of your books. I found them, and then they sent me here. I never wanted to be here – I just want to go home. You’ve been in the Hawke family history as a true friend of the family and you’re probably the only one I would even know in this time even if I hadn’t met you before; You are honestly the only person I can go to for help –”

“Kid, what makes you even think I would help you?”

Amser reached into her bag once again and pulled out a copy of _The Tale of The Champion_. “Check the publication date.”

Varric placed the other book down onto the table and slid _The Tale of The Champion_ closer to him. Her books may have been written in Middling Common, but the publication date was far from being a first edition. She watched Varric as he kept an eye on her, crossbow at the ready, as he skimmed the page holding the publication information. Amser saw his face go from sceptical to disbelief – his hand left its ready position on the crossbow and dropped to his side.

“Alright kid.” Varric said closing the book and handing both books back to her. “How do we go about this?”

Amser grabbed the books and placed them back into her bag. She leaned in and began to whisper, keeping her voice down. “No one here has bothered to ask for my name. I could masquerade as a fellow writing friend. Keep a low profile until the stones are found.”

“And who would you even be? Why would you be here at all? Most of the people I know who are writers tend to stay away from armed conflict.” Varric seemed to be in on the plan; Amser at least hoped he would be and not inform anyone of who she really was.

“There was one writer I studied who used a pen name and no one knew who he was. It was rumoured you were friends with him – I could pretend to be him, coming to you with information that I heard about some elven artifact I heard  rumoured to be nearby. The In- the Herald is Dalish, if history kept things correct; they might want to check it out and I only request that I be there. Then I can get home and be out of your hair.”

Varric looked at Amser, a bit confused. “And who is this writer I’m supposed to be friends with?”

“William Shakespeare.” Amser said casually, taking out one of the plays she had in her bag.

“Who?” Varric asked.

And then the reality of time travel hit Amser like a piano falling to the sidewalk.

“Oh, I fucking hate time travel.” Amser groaned, placing her hands over her face and rubbing to release some tension that started to build up.

“Care to explain to the rest of us what’s going on?” Varric asked, looking at Amser like she was indeed starting to be crazy again.

“It’s the Bootstrap Paradox. Maker – my roommate is going to be so happy if I can ever get back to tell her I proved this correct.” Amser’s hands shook as she picked up the copy of collective Shakespeare plays she had taken out to show Varric. “You are supposed to know William Shakespeare by now. Even if history was correctly written down, the family journals mention that Shakespeare was someone you took under your mentor-ship around the time Kirkwall first started going to shit.”

“Well something must be wrong because I have nobody I took under anything ever.” Varric sat back in his chair, triumphantly, as if he solved the puzzle.

Amser shook the book of plays in her hands, “If that were the case, then how have these plays existed for 5 centuries without anyone batting an eye?” Amser saw Varric’s eyebrows furrow. She reached for the mug of ale she had swiped, still on the table untouched, and took a large swig. “Say a time traveller zips around time like it’s nothing. This time traveler loves the books of Varric Tethras and figures, why not meet their heroes – they have a time machine, nothing is stopping them from going to see Tethras. So, the time traveler goes back in time to the Dragon Age. Starts asking around for Varric Tethras, but no one has heard of the writer. Not his publisher, not his friends, and not his family. Varric Tethras doesn’t exist.”

“I am not sure I like where this is going.” Varric interrupts.

Amser shushes him with a wave of her hand, “This time traveler is distraught – they don’t want to live in a world without their favourite author. Luckily, the time travel brought all of Varric Tethras’ books for him to sign. So the time traveler copies all the works out and publishes them; The time traveler now becomes Varric Tethras.” Amser takes another large swig if the ale before continuing. “If this is the case, then who wrote the works originally?”

Varric reaches for his own ale and downs the rest.

“That’s my feelings exactly. If this Shakespeare doesn’t exist, that means I was sent back here, and Shakespeare is meant to be my cover to stop people knowing where I come from. Every play I need to write has already been written for me.” Amser then downed the rest of her ale.

“If this was something that was supposed to happen, then who wrote the plays?” Varric seemed tense as he spoke. Amser understood – his own worldview had just been rocked harshly multiple times.

“If I keep asking that question I might just end up going crazy so how about we just avoid it all together.” Amser places the now empty mug down and looked over to Varric. “So. How do I find a place to sleep here?”

The next few days went by in a blur. Varric had found some era appropriate writing tools for Amser to use as she wrote down a few plays. She sat with Varric by the fire as she wrote out the plays – thankful for her eidetic memory so she could keep the physical book hidden. She wrote sitting almost inside the fire trying to keep warm. Varric worries over how close she was to the flames, offering to find her a warmer coat but Amser refused. Other refugees were coming in daily and would need the coat more then she would.

Amser wondered which one of the advisors should approach her first. She knew The Nightengale would know of her existence the moment she sat down at Varric’s fire - if she hadn’t noticed her before. The Commander and Ambassador were both far to busy with the nobles and soldiers respectively. Lady Cassandra had been out with The Herald looking for some mercenary group. Amser honestly hoped that it would be The Chargers. They were one of her favourite parts of _The Inquisition_ and she was excited to see them in person. The only one she was worried about was The Iron Bull. He, like The Nightengale, frightened her. If she was found out he would report it to his higher-ups; she wasn’t sure if she wanted The Qun to know of time travel before they started to calm down with the whole ‘world domination’ thing.

The Herald arrived back to Haven just as Amser had finished writing the all of the Shakespeare Sonnets. Amser didn’t notice anyone’s approach until the Herald spoke.

“Hey Varric, who’s this?” The Herald asked, jolting Amser out of her writing focus and onto the two people, The Herald and Cassandra, who had just showed up around Varric’s fire.

Varric stepped in almost immediately, “This is Amser – an acquaintance of mine back from before Kirkwall went to shit.”

Amser, not entirely sure what to do next, stuck her hand out quickly – preparing it for a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.” She wasn’t surprised her voice was off-pitch and squeaky.

Cassandra’s face turned into a scowl as she looked between both Varric and Amser. It was clear her distrust for the dwarf was swallowing up Amser by her relation to the dwarf. The Herald looked at Amser, a small smirk on her face and delight in her eyes.

The Herald reached out and shook Amser’s hand. “I’m Narris Lavellan – most people around here have taken to calling me The Herald of Andraste.”

Amser took in The Herald’s appearance. She was proudly Dalish, if her armour and Vallaslin were anything to go by. Amser could guess that the markings were meant to honour Elgar’nan – if the full half of her face that was covering in the bloodwriting was anything to go by. The staff on her back was also a giveaway that she was a mage. Amser was surprised that the writings from over five centuries ago were still correct.

It took Amser a moment before she was still shaking The Herald’s hand. She let go, and brought her hand back to herself. The Herald looked purely amused – Cassandra was still giving Amser the stink eye.

“Herald I was wondering – I hate to bother you if you’re very busy, I can understand – but I have heard of some Elvhenan artifacts nearby.” Amser watched Cassandra look at her full force like she was a second Varric but Amser kept talking. “They have some kind of magical ability, and I’ve had heard various theories as to what they could do. If possible, I would like to request some assistance to go find these stones. I am not a fighter and the last time I tried to find them by myself I found myself caught up in a rift.”

Amser watched the Herald’s face shifted from amused to interested. “Are you Dalish? I haven’t encountered an elf from the city be so interested into our people’s history.”

“I am working on writing down Elvhenan history. It has been mostly anything I’ve been able to find on my own. I thought a collective work of writing could help all our people understand our history and not lose anymore then we already have.” Amser waited with baited breath – hoping that the Herald would allow such an excursion into the surrounding area.

The Herald’s face went from pensive to a face splitting grin. “I’d love to help you. We’ll set out in the next day or so. And call me Narris – if I’m going to help pass on my clan’s knowledge of what we discovered, I’d like to be called by my name not by a title given to me by the humans here.”

Amser watched Cassandra’s face twist like she had smelt something sour at Narris’ dismissal of the Maker and Andraste; Her own face broke into a grin to match Narris’ own. She would finally be able to start her journey home.

**Author's Note:**

> Ask me about my writing! I have a tumblr dedicated to this ao3 account. 
> 
> https://blu-enby.tumblr.com/


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